continually getting up from the bottom of a heap and staggering to his
position, only to start forward again--reaching out for the ball--and
blindly but savagely following in the direction of his interference.

There was an outer din of noise that Judd was vaguely conscious of. He
could feel a jerking pain in his leg and an aching twitch in his
shoulder, Occasionally, when Barley didn't call his number, he would
start forward, then drop to his hands and knees and rest. Oh, how good
it seemed to be out of play! He was tired ... desperately tired ...
his whole body was sore ... he was miserably wet and uncomfortable ...
his eye-lids were almost stuck shut with mud ... his mouth was thick
with the grime of it ... but he kept mumbling to himself, "I can! I
can!"

Barley called time out as he fell face downward in the mud. The water
boy was out on the field again. Judd blinked as a sheet of cold water
struck him slosh in the face. Barley was pounding him on the back.

"Wake up, ... we're only five yards from the goal and three minutes to
go..."

Judd looked up and beyond Barley. He saw the dark outline of the
bleak, wet goal posts, saw the tense faces of the Canton team ... then
his own fellows grouped around him.

Fenstermaker, Trumbull guard, knelt beside him. He was crying ... the
tears making odd little rivulets down his blackened face. "Come on,
Judd ... we'll make a hole for you!"

Judd struggled to his feet. They were all willing to help him. He was
astounded at his own power to keep going. He didn't seem to care what
happened. It didn't seem like it was he at all. He allowed them to
set him on his feet. "You--you fellows make the hole," he said,
"I-I'll go through!"

On the sidelines, under the very goal posts, the great Bob stood ...
his cap was in his hands ... his hair was wet with rain ... his feet
were almost lost to view in a puddle of water ... he was unconscious of
anything but the actions of his brother. A Trumbull fan, recognizing
him, pounded Bob on the back. "I guess you'll have to take a back seat
now, eh Bob? The kid's got it all over you!"

If Judd could have known what his brother was thinking of him then! If
he could only have known that Bob was on the sidelines! But Judd
didn't know a thing except that this was his fight. He wasn't even
playing for the school. He wasn't thinking of any honor. His single
thought was that to have failed in what he set out to do was t